


Awakening

by LouMason



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, LGBTQ Themes, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouMason/pseuds/LouMason
Summary: First post - bare with me! Original story. Two friends, maybe becoming more. Discovering feelings, that shouldn't be there. Said feelings brought to the surface - more intimate than they should be. Acceptance.
Kudos: 2





	Awakening

This isn’t right - I must be defective. This is not normal.

I kept repeating the words to myself. Over and over. Hoping the more I repeated them, the more believable they would become. The more control I would have. Infatuation was what they called it. Intoxication was what it felt like. An unexplainable, all consuming attachment we shared. A friendship was all it was. All it could be.  
These thoughts swirled around my head. It was becoming harder and harder to hear myself think. My eyes continuously on the look out - searching - for her. My connection to anything at all.  
_There!_ Over in the distance. Effortlessly magnetic.  
I watched the way she unconsciously pouted her lips together. The feelings I felt as I kept watch. Her hands combing through her hair. A beach wave blonde. Green eyes against her pale skin. Surrounded, never alone.  
She let out a laugh. A pang of jealousy felt within me. Her petite, five-foot-four frame, leant up against a table. Sipping from a glass. Her usual - vodka over ice. She smiled. This feeling more intimate than it should.  
These feelings, moments, scared me. My self assurance cracking beneath me. Filling me with doubts. Unsure of the person I was becoming. An unavoidable, all consuming connection. Questions growing. Questions - I didn’t yet have an answer for. Anxiety settling in. I knew I cared for her more than I should. More than a friend.  
A total mind fuck.  
She did a double take. Finally noticing I was here, watching. Her keen eyes finding mine. Equally just as intrigued. Maybe, just maybe, as infatuated even. She tilted her glass in my direction. A sort of cheers, shared, from across the room. Attraction in the air, but distance maintained.  
I couldn’t get too close. I wouldn’t. I was the first to break eye contact. Reaching for the closest drink. Searching for my own conversation. She, still watching me. Roles now reversed. My palms becoming increasingly sweaty, my heart irratically beating faster against my rib cage. I began to wonder what it would be like if she walked over. Everyone, everything - this party all but forgotten. If she just kissed me, what would happen if we both liked it.  
That very thought unsteadied me. Confusion was what it had left me with. Confused as to why had that thought entered my mind. Confused about what it would mean, the changes it would bring. I pushed past these thoughts. We were just friends. I walked away from her gaze. More so, trying to run away from my own thoughts. Infatuated with the idea of it - the fantasy world I lived in.  
Her. The night moved on. I remembered the meaningless conversations - distractions. The music, the alcohol, the dancing. Her smile. Head held high - confident, but not arrogant. Passionate, but gentle. Black skinny jeans, teamed with white chucks and a ripped nirvana t-shirt. Genuine. A tomboy at heart.  
Pretty and dangerous. Her name was Sarah Jaymes. The girl I had been hopelessly infatuated with since the moment we had met. A cliche. But not a lie. The one person among many I couldn’t seem to loose. Didn’t want to loose. One minute I was getting myself another drink. The next, I was starring back at Sarah - standing alone. As if waiting for someone to make their move.  
Me.  
I knew what was about to happen. Did I want to let this happen? I placed my drink on the table beside me, decision made. I made my way towards her. She smiled. That smile.  
Sarah knew her power. She knew who she was - what she wanted. She spoke directly to me, I felt it. She was glad I was here. The feeling very mutual. Her eyes looking directly into mine. It was moving. Powerful.  
I smiled, tucking my loose hair behind my ear. Her words like music to my ears. The mood changed between us. I felt her change. Sarah looked apprehensive but determined. As if she had just come to a decision, a realisation. Something that she just couldn’t ignore anymore.  
Sarah looked - how I felt, my stomach doing summersaults.  
“Do you trust me?” She asked. I nodded. She looked through the crowd. Combing her hands through her hair, pouting her lips.  
Like she always did.  
Sarah did something that surprised me. She placed her empty drink on the table, standing tall, placing her hand in mine. My breathe getting caught in my chest.  
Mind hitting clarity. Body feeling gravity.  
Sarah made her exit, me following. Our hands still holding on to one another. Neither one of us about to let go. We walked up the staircase, together, beyond the crowd, past family portraits. The wood creaking under toe - it too sensing we were hiding secrets.  
There was a light on at the end of the hall. Sarah pulled me through an open doorway.  
Bodies now touching. Her laugh echoing. Eyes closing. Lips parting.  
I had lost all control. Sarah’s hand on the back of my neck, keeping me close. I wasn’t going anywhere. My hands equally grasping the front of her shirt. I felt her heart beating beneath my fingers. Fast, eager, full of life.  
Sarah made sure I was ok.  
“Yes.” The only word I needed to say. She breathed against my neck, my skin tightening, excited, as she took control again. She moved her fingers, now intertwining between mine. A gentle squeeze.  
Reassurance.  
She understood everything I was feeling - shared it. The perfectly, unexplainable, all absorbing obsession that had been forming between us.  
Back forced against the wall now. Hushed giggles escaping under our breathe.  
What were we doing?  
Sarah’s lips soft against the side of my neck. Her hips level with mine. My hands on her back. Pulling her close. Intimacy growing. I turned, watching the people below, the party underway. Doubts. Uncertainty. Nerves prickling against my skin. Vulnerability starting to surface. Scared of rejection. Scared of stuffing it all up.  
Just simply scared.  
She turned my chin softly, my attention back to her. Looking at me, I knew she was just as scared. Sharing the same inability to explain what we were feeling. But she wanted this just as much I did.  
She wanted me and I wanted her.  
I gave in to my feelings. Releasing myself from my own expectations, chains. The normality I had told myself I needed to follow. Accepting what was about to happen. What it would mean. What people would think.  
She was worth it.  
Sarah’s hand touched the side of my cheek, slowly pushing me backwards towards the bed. Her bedroom was small. Lovely. Intimate. Our faces now inches apart.  
Sarah was my first. She knew it. She was kind.  
I followed. My hands removing her shirt, unclipping her bra. My breathing was shaky. My hands touching her lips. Impatient.  
Knees now finding themselves next to her hips. I looked at her beauty below me. My hand lightly tracing her body. As I kissed every inch…down. Sarah’s body ached beneath me. I followed each reaction. Completely and utterly hers.  
No words needed.  
I was pulled in close, our bodies switching places. Eyes now looking up - at her. The ceiling. It was romantic, frantic, soft.  
Over just as quickly as it had begun.  
Both of us looking at each other, slowly drifting into sleep. Sharing tender moments. Blankets now intertwined between us. I felt her face close to my neck, the tickle of her hair as it draped over my shoulders.  
The party below well and truly forgotten.  
I laid there. Naked. But awakened. As if for the first time, everything made sense.  
The alcohol wearing off, a hangover in the air. A soft hand draped around my waist. A simple, intimate gesture. Warmth encasing me. Unable to move. Not wanting too.  
Two bodies, now connected in a moment lacking in reason. Realisation hitting me - I didn’t owe anyone one. A label wasn’t going to change anything. I didn’t need it. All I needed was her.

My name was Cristina and I called her Sarah.


End file.
